What A Mind Can Do!
by Animegrl421
Summary: Based on a dream. Kenny forces drugs on the others with terrible concequences. Character deaths, non-con mentions, pill taking, violence, and a tiny slice of gore, and slash K2. Oneshot - Momma's back, guys, chill.


"Kenny, seriously dude, where are we going?" Stan asked, trying to keep his voice as least-strained sounding as possible. It was a difficult feat with Kenny's mysterious act at the moment.

"Maybe he's lost." Cartman said, "Po' people always get lost 'cause they're too stupid to have a map in their heads."

Kyle rolled his eyes as Kenny growled. "That must be why you're always looking for the fridge." he muttered.

Catman took a short moment, pausing to think over the words before, "Ay!"

Kyle ignored the ensuing rant, choosing instead to watch Kenny's shoulder's tense. The boy moved a bit faster and Kyle couldn't blame him one bit. He got agitated easily whenever he was trying to tutor them, he couldn't imagine having them actually go somewhere. He tried to keep Stan distracted.

"So, what'd you and Craig plan for the next game?" he asked. Stan, thankful for the distraction, gave him a smile.

As he responded, Kyle couldn't help but get a little distracted by Kenny's stiffening form as they continued into the forest. He heard Cartman mumble about how stupid this whole thing was and how he could be at home watching re-runs of Terrance and Philip right now.

"It's just through here," Kenny directed, gesturing through the trees toward a clearing.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Stan asked, the trees around him making any thoughts of the upcoming game disappear. "We could get lost, dude."

"Scared?" Cartman asked, "Just like a hippy to get scared of the forest they try to save with their dumbass songs."

Stan growled at that, knowing better than to respond to Cartman's taunts. He didn't want to fight. The sky darkened, a chill blowing over the four. Stan shivered, hugging his arms to his chest while Kyle drew himself a little closer to him, zipping his jacket fully.

"So what is it you wanted to show us?" Kyle asked as Kenny paused in a clearing.

The blond held up a hand, "You'll see." he replied shortly, walking over to the tree nearest him. Kyle moved a couple steps closer, sharing a curious look with Stan.

Kenny pressed his hand against the bark, feeling the uneven sides for a moment. "Uh, dude…" Stan began, wondering just what the Hell Kenny was doing.

As Kenny peeled the bark off, Kyle could see the edges of a note popping out from the sides from over his shoulder. Kenny pulled it out completely, seeming either not to notice or not care that Kyle was closer now, peering over his shoulder as much he could. He didn't ask what the note was about, instead wondering why it was in the tree in the first place and how it got there. As Kenny pulled it closer, Kyle could make out some words written in the middle of the paper: _"I have been shot over a hundred times, I survived... I have been killed, RAMed, suicidal and yet I live… No one knows but us… We are the Ones. Everyone else has a choice, has a life. And It Is Time for that choice." _ Near the bottom, Kyle could barely make out: _"Choose well, Kenny."_

Kenny opened the folded note to find pills falling into his hands. "Kenny?" Kyle broke the silence, wondering what the Hell any of that was about. He looked down at Kenny's hand as it closed around the newfound pills. "What's going on?" he asked, "Is that what you wanted us to see? Some pills and a letter? Is it a joke or something?"

Kenny turned, expression serious enough to have Kyle back away a couple steps. It was slightly unnerving to see the usually silent yet joking blond with such a hardened expression. "Ken?" he heard Stan ask.

Blue eyes shifted over each of them, pausing on Kyle, "I want you guys to try these." he said, holding out his hand and opening it to reveal the pills inside. Two were long pills one lighter than the other, the last one round. "My friend left some here, they're from North."

Kyle didn't get a chance to ask what the pills did nor who the people who left them were as Cartman cut-in.

"Hell no." Cartman said, "You did not bring me all the way out here to try some bullshit po' peoples' drug-"

Kenny cut him off, "Shut the fuck up, fatass, and take the pill. You get this one," he gestured to the darker long pill, "Stan, you get the other long one. That leaves the last for you, Kye."

Kyle gave a confused look, "They're obviously not the same." he said, "What do they do?" He thought back to the letter, none of it made any sense, until, "Are you apart of some kinda cult?"

Kenny smiled at his questions, "I don't want to have to force you guys," he said moving towards Cartman. The other shifted his weight from one foot to the other, pushing his hands further into his jacket pockets.

"Screw you guys, I'm goin' home." Cartman said as the pill was offered once more.

But before Cartman could carry out his threat, Kenny pulled out a gun. He pointed it at the brunette, "Sure you wanna die first?" he asked.

Kyle and Stan gaped, unconciously looking towards the other for guidance. "Is he serious?" They both thought.

Obviously thinking it was a joke, the brunette laughed it off, "How cute, you guys, Kenny thinks his little gun will scare me-"

The gun was cocked, barrel moving upward toward Cartman's head. "Take the pill." Kenny demanded, holding it out. Cartman blinked at the other, waiting for the telling smile of a joke. When he found none, he sighed.

"Cartman, just do it," Kyle shakily said, eyes directed on the blond.

"I'm not taking some bulls-"

"Please." Kyle said, stressing the trembling word with a bit of reluctance. The shock was still there, and he wasn't sure what else they could do but follow whatever Kenny said. The gun in the blond's hand scared him, he admitted. It was uncharacteristic and apparently loaded. He wasn't sure if Kenny was in the right state of mind at the moment or if maybe he was playing a long; over-stayed over-done practical joke. It just wasn't like him, and that's what scared him the most. Even more than the gun.

"Fine, bitch, I'll take the damn thing. But I swear to God Kenny, if this is something stupid I'm gonna kill you."

Kyle watched him take it, eyes meeting Stan's as Kenny's grin widened comically. "Good boy, now the rest."

The blond turned toward Stan and Kyle, open palm reaching toward their direction. "Go on."

Stan stepped forward first, taking the one Kenny had specified earlier. He nodded to Kyle, gesturing for him to follow. Kyle did a moment later, stumbling feet barely making it to the boy. He met Kenny's eyes, trembling hand grabbing the last pill.

He bit his lip, extremely reluctant to move until he was nudged on the side of his head by a cool froze, forcing himself to move despite the gun's too-close proximity. Gulping, mouth suddenly too dry to swallow properly, he put the pill in his mouth and swallowed thickly. It felt as if it hung in his throat for a moment before his body got the message it was there and pushed it down.

He felt nothing, looking up surprised eyes met Stan's relieved ones. Then, Stan fell to the ground.

"STAN!" Kyle screamed, ready to jump to the other's side only to find he couldn't move. The forest was out-of-focus. _Where am I? _He was at work, right? _That wasn't right. Stan...He's... _He faded back into the forest, seeing a still body on the ground. The lips were blue, eyes wide, mouth hung open fully. "Stan?" _Was that Stan? Is Stan dead? No wait, he's not dead, he's at work, with me. He works with me right? _

He found himself moving unsteadily, trees were people, darkness walls. "W...what'd you order?" he slurred, voice sounding distant even to himself. Why was his tongue so thick? He tried to grab a tray and fill it with food, but his hands were too numb. He couldn't move his arms right, they felt like thick weights. He felt a touch on his shoulder just barely. Was it really there?

He closed his eyes, mind going too slow in the areas that counted. When he opened them, he saw the edges of the forest. His feet were moving, stumbling, someone was leading him on his side. He turned his head slowly, feeling drunk and numb at once. It was Kenny. He tried to ask what was going on, when he got here only to find he couldn't make it past a gurbled noise of nonsense. Kyle could barely close his mouth back from the effort.

Wait, what about the customer? There he was again, behind the counter. He couldn't remember the order. The customer looked angry. "Wh..." he couldn't get out the rest of the question. What was the question? He was so confused, he felt too heavy. He tried to say he was sorry but even as his mouth opened, no noise would come out.

Wait, he wasn't at work was he? Was he dreaming? That was it...It was a dream... Right? Right. He blinked belatedly, finding his body falling. His heart sped up in panic until his back hit the bed. He bounced lightly on the material. He laughed at the sensation, unsure himself why it was so funny. He was drunk, right? Maybe. He didn't remember drinking. He thought back, trying to remember _something; anything._ But there was nothing.

Blearily, his eyes noted the room around him. The fast motion of his pupil's movements had the world spinning too fast to see. He remembered then, the way to the house. There were people on the street. And red. Why was the street so red? He closed his eyes, frustration building at his own confusion. It was liquid... Paint? Blurry people were on the ground, Kenny's laugh echoed in his mind. He had been laughing as he passed. There had been a moment...

_"Look, Kye, what a knife can do!" _It had been blood. And the people, they hadn't been moving. They hadn't even been standing. They were dead. The town... He had watched it, he knew. He could remember some, the screams, the slahing of the knife. So many different deaths with one object... He felt nauseas. Everyone was dead. There was a body somewhere, someone he knew. Someone he saw die. It wasn't in the town. It was in the forest. _Stan? Stan can't be dead. Kenny wouldn't hurt Stan... _

He felt a warmth behind him, spooning him. He knew it was Kenny. He tried to speak, to ask if he was dreaming. To laugh at the absurdity of it all. He was dreaming before right? Wasn't he still dreaming? He was so confused. Fingers trailed his front, making him dazedly aware that his jacket was gone. The hand trailed further, downwards it went. He tried to tell it to stop, but words wouldn't come out. A noise barely even hearable passed his lips and suddenly he found himself laughing at it.

Lips pressed his ear as the hand left its own trail behind it. Kyle was suddeny hyper-aware of every bit of skin touched. The places touched pulsed, as if following the hand. His heart skipped a beat, breath hitched, as his clothed crotch was touched lightly. _Please stop... _It felt weird and-it moved, messaging the area slowly. In the absense of sound, his breath doubled. He was breathing too heavy, too fast.

He was back at work, his body felt weird still. He tried to move, to get the receipt paper and hand it to the person on the other side of the counter. He crumpled to the floor suddenly, body unable to hold itself in a standing position. His muscles wouldn't respond. He couldn't control his sporadic breath.

Kenny's hand pressed against him, taunting him. He breathed yet harder. It was too hot, he was on fire. It hurt. Where was everyone? Stan...Stan was dead. Kenny killed Stan.

_Oh God... He's going to kill me after this._

_RAM- Raped And Murdered, _he realized, flashing back to the note. He tries to plead, to tell Kenny to stop-He's trying to work on getting off the floor and get the receipt. He doesn't move, doesn't try because he suddenly knows this isn't reality. He's with Kenny right now. He's not at work. Stan isn't there. Cartman...

He can't move, breathing is getting too hard; he's not getting enough air. No breath is enough, oxygen felt like literally nothing. It wasn't air, it couldn't be, it wasn't filling his lungs like it should. It was too hard. He's laughing and he doesn't know why. What happened to his friennemy? Will he ever know?

He wants to cry, to scream, to run. He's overly-lethargic; his limbs felt alien to him. They wouldn't work. His chest hurt. The hand below was working, arousal blooming past the pain. The shame had the heat building.

He can't breathe, but he's breathing too hard he realizes. Something's wrong.

Everything's wrong.


End file.
